" "A key!" exclaimed Wood eagerly. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. The theme was a masquerade. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI. . "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife.
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